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Anonymous said: Oliver walks on Felicity having a shower after training with Diggle ... they kiss


Ah, shower tropes.  This one’s for you, Anon. ;)


Felicity groaned as water beat down her back.  Her whole body was aching from this new training regimen Digg had her on.  Ever muscle was so sore.  Muscles she hadn’t even known she had hurt.  Thank God Oliver’s new hideout was equipped with a small bathroom, complete with shower.  She didn’t think she’d have made it home without the heat therapy to ease some of the tightness.

But what was once piping hot water was slowly turning cool, and she could see the tips of her fingers pruning, so that was probably a sign she needed to get out.  She put the cap back on the bottle of shampoo Oliver had left there and tipped her hair back beneath the water one more time.  With a soft groan she shut off the faucet, then grabbed her towel from the bar as she pushed open the curtain and—

“OH MY GOD, OLIVER!” she shrieked, clutching the towel to her chest.  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

Oliver was frozen like a dear-in-the-headlights, halfway in the cracked door of the bathroom, one hand on a towel on the hand-towel bar behind the sink.  “I…” he swallowed nervously, unable to recall what he’d been doing five seconds before Felicity had suddenly turned off the shower.

“Oliver!” she berated.

Snapping back to himself, Oliver gave her a sheepish yet somehow remorseless look.  “I didn’t mean to see anything.  I was just poking my head in to grab a towel.”

“Why?”  Would he please look away already? Felicity groaned internally, flushing right down to her toes as she clung to the towel for cover, unable to wrap it around herself with him standing right there.

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mystarsandmyocean said: In honor of my bus ride from hell: Felicity's stuck taking public transportation home from work and asks Dig to pick her up when there's a problem and the bus is detained. Oliver - or the Arrow - shows up instead.



Alas, Sam, no angst here for you. ^_~ This oneshot was also one of those scenes where I kept writing in search of its direction or goal…and I’m still not sure it had any.  :-P

(1.3K words)


Downtown Starling City wasn’t a bad place.  But like many metropolitan city centers, the rat race bustle of the day all but disappeared at night, and in the hours circling midnight, the tall office buildings seemed to loom, the empty streets crisscrossed like a daunting maze, and the chilled air slipped past even the thickest cardigans.

Or at least, Felicity’s cardigan.

Which wasn’t that thick, she admitted, but as she stood on the sidewalk next to the broken down  bus, she wasn’t quite in the mood to take any responsibility for her bad night, nope.

It had started with an emergency call into Kord Industries over a server crashing, which turned out to be oops, no, it’s not a single server, but the whole network in Lab 10-B. And was she aware, asked the snooty manager who had been her point of contact for the company, that they were planning to launch the new protocol in the morning? Which meant this needed to be fixed tonight?

Said snooty manager hadn’t even shown up, only conveying insistence and panic over constant (and disruptive) telephone calls.

By the time she had fixed things, even the scathing incident report she sent to said snooty manager’s boss didn’t make her feel better.

(Two weeks ago, she had advised on what needed to be done to avoid this exact problem. None of it was implemented despite her repeated queries over its status and offers to come in and ensure it was done.)

(She still wasn’t sure if she should have deleted the “You have failed this project.” line in her comments.)

It was close to midnight when she finally headed to her car, simply exhausted. It turned out her car was just as exhausted: it wouldn’t start.

It was past midnight by the time she got on the last metropolitan bus out of the city, its sole passenger.

And it took no more than fifteen minutes for that vehicle’s engine to stutter and die on some lonesome street.

The bus driver had only shrugged when she’d asked if someone would come by to fix the bus — or, you know, provide some other means of transport?

It really, really wasn’t a good night.

She went through her options and with a sigh, made the call on her phone.

Digg picked up on the second ring. “Felicity?”

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I want a scene like this on the show. I don’t care which season it happens, so long as it does. Exactly like this. Word per word.

ARROW Season 2 Gag Reel! @SuperheroReport

If we’re going to do this, it has to be about honoring Tommy.

bowsinherhair said: roommates au. ROOMMATES AU. ROOOOMMMMAATESSS AU!!!! (aka #8.... although feel free to make it 'not so au'. We both know what I'm talking about... right? RIGHT?!)


The only reason I cheated this one and set it in canon ‘verse is because Anna and I have been talking about this for months, since we had “Daniel” instead of Ray.

You Can’t Have Your Cake and Eat it Too

He’s been living with Felicity for the past five months and honestly, it’s the only place he’s felt at home since… well since he returned from the island.

The mansion had been home once, but not really. It was huge and ornate and staged, far too big for a family of four even with the house staff.  When Thea was born it had become a bit more of what a young Oliver imagined home to feel like. He and Tommy would let her chase them down the halls, picking her up when she fell over on her chubby little legs and pretending to trip when they got too far ahead of her. That’s the closest he’s ever really been to feeling at home.

So it’s a strange yet overwhelmingly good experience, spending these past few months at Felicity’s. Her apartment is so vibrant and lived in, so much the opposite of what he’s used to. The halls are a bit small and the living room teeming with stuff, but it’s so Felicity that it makes Oliver smile the first time he spends the night there, sans one blonde genius who was pulling an overnight shift at Kord Industries. He’d slept in her bed that night, which was both the best and worst decision he’s ever made. It was the best because he can’t remember a time within the last six years, maybe ever, that he’s slept so soundly. But it was the worst because her scent was everywhere, sending his senses and his imagination into overdrive picturing all the scenarios in which Felicity would be in bed with him. He’s sure to get up early the next morning, before she gets back, and make her a fresh pot of coffee as well as take a jog down to the local bakery for those scones she loves so much.

After that it just became a routine. Oliver would come back from patrol and Felicity would insist he spend the night at her place until eventually it turned into an unspoken agreement. There was never any official conversation about it, but after a month of doing this Oliver had his essentials and an adequate amount of clothing at Felicity’s apartment. She apologized profusely for the lack of space in her guest-turned-storage room but even then it was still more comfortable to live in than the damp, cold basement of Verdant. Or what used to be Verdant.

It’s funny how one encounter can change that feeling so completely.

Since their ill-fated date three months prior, Oliver has done everything he possibly can to encourage Felicity to move on. Just because he can’t have the life he wants with the person he loves, doesn’t mean she should be deprived of that happiness, too. Which is why when Felicity blurts out over Chinese takeout and red wine that her and Ray Palmer are seeing each other, Oliver plasters on his widest “Oliver Queen, reformed billionaire playboy” grin and offers his utmost support. He can see in her eyes that she knows he’s lying.

“I don’t want this to change things between us. You’re still my best friend and I love having you here as my roommate. That doesn’t have to change, right?”

“No, of course not.”

Only Oliver feels like someone just stabbed him in the back with his own arrow.

He has absolutely no right to feel this way. After all, he’s the one who put a stop to things between them before they could really even begin. He’s the one who encouraged her to see other people, to go visit Barry in Central City. But Ray Palmer, the man hell-bent on buying up his company, was not who Oliver had in mind.

“You’re sure? Because if this is going to make things weird I’ll…”

She trails off, unsure of how to end that sentence.

Exactly. What is she going to do? Break up with the guy? No, Oliver is too much of a masochist to let that happen.

“It will be fine. I promise.”

He promptly downs the rest of his wine and refills the glass immediately after.

But that’s not what taints the sense of home he’s found at Felicity’s. No, that comes at eight ‘oh seven AM the following Saturday when Oliver returns from his morning jog to find Palmer standing in their, Felicity’s kitchen with only a pair of sweatpants on and casually cooking eggs on the stove.

“Oh, hey, Queen. Question for ya, does Felicity have any cinnamon around here? I wanted to make her some of my homemade French toast. We had a… long night and I thought she would enjoy breakfast in bed.”

 The way this man so casually adapts to their, Felicity’s living space has Oliver gritting his teeth and talking himself out of going over and decking the guy. He knows exactly what Palmer means by having a long night.


“Spice cabinet is above the stove.”

The words come out as a near growl and Oliver clears his throat in an attempt to cover it up.

“Thanks, man. She likes French toast, right? Probably should have asked that first.”

“Yeah, French toast is good. And she likes her eggs scrambled with a little bit of paprika on them, ketchup on the side.”

Oliver honestly doesn’t know what compels him to share this bit of information with the man, but Ray looks a little surprised by his knowledge of Felicity’s eating habits. Turning down the stove to the lowest setting, Ray turns to face Oliver and leans back against the counter, his gaze calculating.

“Listen, man, I’m not trying to get in the middle of anything here. Felicity assured me that there was nothing going on between you two, that you were strictly platonic.”

Very… platonic circumstances. Yeah, that’s exactly what they are.

“There isn’t. We are.”

“You sure? Because the last thing I want to do is cause any problems between you and her. You’re important to Felicity and I can see that she’s important to you, too. I’d be a dick to come in and ruin that. So just say the word and I’ll bow out. But you should know that if you don’t, I’m not going anywhere.”

This is his chance, his chance to stop anything between Felicity and Ray before they get too serious, before it’s too late. But he can’t. Because just like it would be a dick-move for Ray to knowingly come between Oliver and Felicity, it would be unforgivable for Oliver to keep Felicity from what he has so desperately been urging her to do.

So instead he just shakes his head and gives a terse reply.

“There’s nothing between me and Felicity.”

The paper bag from the bakery down the street gets dumped in the trash on his way out.


Prompts closed for the time being. Will reopen once a few have been filled :)



Take no shit

If only this was a socially acceptable way to deal with assholes in the world today…


Eyes are distracting. You see too much. You don’t see enough.

stared at these for half an hour straight 


I loved the whole sand-wall trick, it was beautiful.




Is this the official poster for S3? :)



Favorite Tweets by Stephen Amell




oliver/felicity & thea/roy parallels

I assume she’s a friend of yours. Touch one hair on my head and she loses hers. You’ve got quite the choice to make, don’t you?